


Angels and Demons

by persephone (sleepingangel)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angels and Demons, Angst, F/M, Gen, Multi, Supernatural AU - Freeform, i seem to always end up making my stories very angst-y, probably a lot of angst, probably going to incorporate other fandoms down the line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:58:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingangel/pseuds/persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're the angel that gives me reason, but I can't begin to count my demons."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Less Than Desirable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's spent a lifetime searching for something, and it seems he just might have finally found it.

Icy wind slashed at his face and the rain danced its evil upon his head as he tried to get his bearings on the dimly lit city street. His clothes were completely soaked with frigid moisture and his hair was plastered to his face and neck, yet he felt nothing. Another man might have trembled under the chill of the winter rainstorm, but he trudged along, indifferent to the harsh weather that tore at his clothes and stung his skin.

He had wandered into a less than desirable part of the city. Unwashed men leered at him from back alleyways, some of them with their sleeves rolled up to reveal needle marks scattered over their skin while others clutched lit cigarettes, carefully shielding them from the relentless rain. Women in skintight minidresses and five inch heels leaned against dirty walls, pouting crimson lips and shivering in their decided lack of clothing. Some of them tried to catch his attention, but he waved them away with a glare. He had no time for petty pleasures; he was late.

His destination was a small brick shop, dwarfed by the larger buildings on either side. A flickering neon sign hanging in the grimy window indicated that it was open for business, while faded lettering over the door identified it as Cassandra's Mystics: Fortune Telling and Expert Palm Readings.

The bells above the door jingled a bit too cheerfully when he entered the shop. It looked more like a tourist-y cafe with a gothic twist: several heavy wooden tables each surrounded by three deep purple armchairs, maroon curtains covering all the windows, the whole place saturated with the smoky, spicy aroma of incense. The bells hadn't even stopped their noise when a beaded curtain at the back of the room rustled and parted, revealing Madame Cassandra herself.

Shrouded in swaths of dark colored cloth, her wrists jangling with gold bangles, her eyes rimmed with dark kohl, she looked every bit the part of the wise gypsy fortune teller. That was just a front, of course. She was one of his kind, blessed with the gift of Premonition. Cassandra wasn't even her real name. She, like so many of their brethren, found herself abandoned with no resources and did what she could to build a life off of her natural talents. In the years since she established her business, she had become a primary broker of information in the wretched underworld that neither of them could ever quite escape. If you wanted to know something, Cassandra was the woman to see. And he was here on a mission.

"I haven't seen you in many months." She commented, getting straight to business as usual. "Given our history, I doubt you're here on a social call."

"You know why I'm here." He pulled out one of the chairs, throwing himself down into it. "Have you found the girl yet?"

Cassandra sighed, lowering herself into the chair across from him. She smelled like cigarettes and heavy incense. "You know I'm looking. It would be easier if I still had the full extent of my abilities... These days, I can only see bits and pieces, and they usually come in flashes at the most inconvenient times."

"I need to find her," he growled, tightly gripping the arm of the chair. "I need you to tell me where she is."

She sighed. "Your obsession with this girl grows tiresome. You really should pick up a hobby. Have you considered water colors?"

"This isn't a game, Cassandra!" He slammed a hand on the table, sending water droplets flying from his skin. "You know that she's the reason for everything. All of this is because of her. I couldn't get away from her if I tried."

"It seems to me that the best way to get away from her would be to stop tirelessly searching for her," Cassandra muttered under her breath. "But I know you, and I know you won't rest until you've caught up with her." She sighed. "I'll try to See something for you."

She sat down in front of him, heaving a deep breath and holding out her hands. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the little bracelet he always kept there. It was a cheap trinket, pink plastic beads strung on a plastic chord with a silvery butterfly charm that had turned slightly greenish over the years. It was the only thing he had that was connected to the girl he so eagerly hunted. He dropped it into Cassandra's hands with an apathetic sigh. She closed her eyes, fingers curling around the child's jewelry.

"She'd be about seventeen now wouldn't she?" Cassandra murmured, eyebrows furrowing as she grasped at the invisible ties binding the bracelet to the girl it had once belonged to. "I think I can..." She frowned, focusing every once of her energy on the Sight.

She gasped, eyes snapping open to stare at him, wide with shock. "I know where she is."

"Where?!" He leaned forward, gripping her arms. It was all he could do to resist the urge to shake her. "Where is she?"

"Ashton." Cassandra looked up at him, her face pale, silently pleading with him. "I think you should stay away from her."

"Why would you even say that?" He squeezed her arms tighter. "Why?"

"Because she's in danger." She took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she dropped the bracelet onto the table. "If you try to get involved now... I think you're going to get her killed."


	2. Fire And Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I introduce our female lead. Yes, OC, but I'm trying very hard to keep her realistic and I promise that there will be as few OCs as possible in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: nightmares, death, fire(?)
> 
> this chapter ended up being so much darker than I originally intended (and Ashton ended up coming off as a total prick oops) I'm so sorry

If you had asked me to describe my life in one word, it probably would have been "loud." As I stood in the aisle of a crowded public bus, gripping the overhead railing as I tried to keep my footing, I couldn't even think over all of the chaos around me. The bus's insides were choked with almost twice the number passengers it was built for, and I was suffocating under the heat and smells of the bodies pressing in around her. It was almost a relief when the vehicle sputtered to a shaky stop, giving me a chance to stumble to the front and throw myself into the icy rain outside.

I shivered as the heavy, cold droplets rolled down my face, gathering on the collar of my sweater. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around my torso, quickening my steps as I trudged back to my apartment. It rained so often here in the city, much more than it did in my tiny little hometown.

I impatiently batted the wet, tangled blonde hair back from out of my eyes as I darted into the building, earning an exasperated sigh from the elderly landlady, who likes to spend her afternoons sitting in the lobby with a black coffee and her vicious little Pomeranian, glaring menacingly at anyone who drips water on her carpets. I offered a cautious smile before slipping past her and starting on the two flights of stairs up to my apartment.

The second floor was blessedly, miraculously quiet at the moment, with no sounds except for my footsteps and the rain on the roof. My colorful collection of neighbors seemed to be at rest for the time being, leaving me to unlock the front door and let myself in with relative silence.

The apartment wasn't big, but I had done my best to make it comfortable. With my roommate visiting her parents this weekend, I had the place all to myself. I tossed my keys into the dish by the door, shrugging out of my coat as I slid the deadbolt back into the locked position, a precaution I had quickly picked up in my last apartment, where break-ins were more common than the rainstorms that seemed to plague this city. I stumbled into the living room and collapsed face down on the couch, contemplating falling asleep right then and there.

I was drifting somewhere between consciousness and dreams when I heard it. The distinct sound of our back widow, which is rusty and tends to stick, sliding open. I sat up, eyes widening as I whirled to face the window. Sure enough, it was wide open, the sight sending chills down my spine. We never left that window open.

I leapt to my feet, grabbing for the nearest available weapon, which happened to be a heavy vase from the coffee table. I look frantically around the room, clutching it tightly, prepared to strike. I nearly called out but stopped myself at the last minute; I'd seen enough horror movies to know that giving away your location to the intruder is a great way to get killed.

I tiptoed through the house, vase raised. There wasn't much to check, really. Both bedrooms were clear. Kitchen was clear. Bathroom was clear. I returned to the living room, which was as completely empty as when I left it. The window was still open, and there was now a puddle of rainwater on the floor below it. I sighed, setting the vase down and trudging over to close the window. Maybe the latch had broken or something...

In a flash of lighting I saw him, reflected in the glass. Wild overgrown blond hair, a face that would have been beautiful if it weren't for the angry glare painted across his features. Firey eyes that appeared gold in the light of my apartment and seemed to stare straight through me, even though he was just a reflection. I shivered, staring into his reflected gaze. And then a roll of thunder shook the room and he was gone.

I turned and scanned the room, half expecting to find him standing behind me, but I was alone. 'You're really starting to lose it, Lillie,' I scolded myself. 'Maybe Mom's right. Maybe all this work really is getting to my head...'

 

That night marked the first time that he made an appearance in my dreams. He hovered over my mattress, a teasing grin lifting his lips even as his eyes seemed to glow with loathing and anger. His fingers skimmed over my bare shoulders and up my neck, never quite touching my skin. He flicked playfully at the straps of my tank top, one of his cold fingers tracing my throat. He leaned down so that his mouth hovered mere inches above mine, the grin twisting into a cruel snarl. His voice was a low, menacing growl. "Found you."

I was suffocating. All around me the flames climbed higher and higher, licking up the walls and hungrily devouring everything in their path. Thick, black smoke filled the air, pouring into my mouth and nose and burning my throat and choking my lungs. I doubled over, coughing and screaming and clawing at the floorboards even as I collapsed. I couldn't breathe, I was dying, choking on fire and it was all too hot too hot too hot. 

I saw his eyes in the dancing flames, watching and judging and mocking. I saw that mischievous little grin and could almost hear a low chuckle as my body began to ache, pleading for fresh clean air and any kind of relief from the heat that baked my skin and scorched my very soul. I screamed and howled until my throat was hollow and raw, and yet relief never came.

He was kneeling in front of me now, hazel eyes dancing with the reflected light of the flames as he watched my plight with a disinterested expression. He traced my jaw with the tip of one finger, his touch like gentle frost on my blistered skin. He swept the pad of his thumb across my cheek, smiling cruelly. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

I couldn't answer. My tongue was burned and broken and I couldn't lift it to form words and my throat ached with every breath of poisonous air. I was a sobbing, quivering mess as I shrank away from his touch, shivering despite the blistering heat.

He leaned down, cupping my throbbing cheek in one hand and bringing his lips towards my ear. "Tell me how much it hurts, baby girl."

"Why?" I managed to sputter out the single syllable, choking on tears and smoke as I forced it out.

"This is only a fraction of what I felt." He growled, "I lost everything because of you. If it weren't for you..."

"Please," I was coughing and wheezing and clinging to his hands, tears rolling down my cracked, burned face. "Please... make it... stop."

"Why should I?" He stared into the fire, his face awash with its orange glow. "No one helped me. Why should I help you?"

"I'm sorry." I closed my eyes, clutching at his cool skin and hollow touch. "I'm so... so sorry... Please."

"Okay."

And just like that, the flames had vanished. His icy fingers drifted lazily over my limp form, healing the burnt, blistered skin with a mere touch. I breathed a sigh of relief, folding my hands firmly together to stop their shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

"I wanted you to know." He shrugged apathetically, all the fire gone from his brilliant eyes. "I wanted you to know what you put me through." He hooked one finger under my chin, tipping my head back to look at him. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I shook my head. "No. I have no idea who you are. But I am truly sorry that I hurt you. I didn't mean to."

He sighed, looking down at my hand. "You didn't, did you?" He mumbled thoughtfully, "You couldn't have known. After all," his eyes shifted to meet mine, his next words chilling me to the bone, "You're only human."

"Can I help you?" I asked shakily, struggling to sit up next to him. "If you'd only tell me how, maybe I could..."

"If only it was that easy." He offered a smile tainted with something bitter, helping me to rise to my feet. "I appreciate the thought sweetheart, but no one can help me."

"You're not real, are you?" I dared to touch his face, my fingertips just barely grazing his cheek. "I dreamed you up."

He smiled mischievously. "Come on, you know that even you couldn't dream up something like me."

"But..." I drew my eyebrows together in a frown, "I am dreaming, aren't I?"

Instead of gracing me with a reply, he simply leaned forward, his lip brushing my cheek for a fraction of a second. "I'll see you soon, baby girl."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by four things. The first is a love of paranormal literature that sparked in me at some point in middle school, when I used to read books like Hush, Hush and The Summoning instead of talking to my classmates because I was an awkward, anxious nerd. The second is my infatuation with 5 Seconds Of Summer, both the boys and their music. The third is a prompt I found on Tumblr a couple of weeks ago, which helped me develop the opening line. The fourth source of inspiration is the song "Angels And Demons" by Front Porch Step, which is where I came up with the name (obviously), and is also where a lot of the quotes at the beginning of chapters come from.


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